Rolanda opened her mouth, ready to scare the child into believing Azkaban was a possibility, but–as if sensing her partner would say something horrid–Charity spoke first. “No, no, little one. Azkaban is no place for a sweetling like you. No one was hurt, and what are a few coins at the end of the day?”
Rolanda cast a look at the blonde that was ignored by the younger witch. Would Charity have been so forgiving if it had been her pocket that had been picked? Probably… the daft woman–gods love her–chose to see the good in everyone, even if evidence said otherwise.
“Why did you try to steal from me?” Rolanda couldn’t help but ask. “Where is your family?”
“You’ll have to forgive Rolanda,” Charity told the girl gently before she had the chance to answer. “Her bark is worse than her bite, I promise. Tell us your name, dearest. My name is Charity, and–as I’ve said–this is Rolanda.”
Hooch gave an indignant grunt, yellow hawk-like eyes tracking the girl’s every move as she clutched her sweet, her lips and mouth beginning to stain with red. “No one’s taking that away from you,” Rolanda told her, not completely unkind. “If you’re hungry, we can give you a meal… and a bath.” She added, slightly under her breath and earning a jab to her ribs from the witch next to her.
“Let’s just start with the name first, and go from there,” Charity smiled at her, waiting for the girl to speak.
“It’s absolutely freezing,” Charity complained, her gloved hand slipping into Rolanda’s as they traversed the cobblestone path from the castle to the sleepy little wizarding village, trying not to slip on any patches of ice.
“This was your idea,” Rolanda laughed. “I was quite content to spend the day mending brooms in front of the fire with a glass of fire whiskey to–ooph!” Something had hit Rolanda’s side, digging into the pocket of her heavy winter robes. The witch looked down to see a dirty face and matted brown hair before the child was off running. Rolanda opened her mouth to call after the child, but Charity clutched her arm tightly with a gasp just as the small girl started to stumble, then collapse to the ground.
“Oh!” Charity squeaked, making her way quickly to the fallen child and checking her over. Rolanda stood rooted to the spot, gaping as if she’d been hit with a stupifying spell and wondering what in the blazes had just happened. “Give me your cloak!” Charity called, snapping Rolanda into action.
“The little fink just tried to rob me! You want to help her?!”
“Rolanda Xiomara Hooch,” the blonde witch said in clipped tones, hands on her hips as she glared at the other witch. “This child is quite obviously in need of a mediwitch. Take off your cloak and help me get her to the castle this instant!”
There would be no arguing with her once Charity had used her middle name…
Rolanda shrugged her cloak off as she approached Charity and the unconscious child, pointedly leaning down to retrieve her coin purse before offering her cloak. The Muggle Studies professor cast a disapproving look at the Flying instructor and snatched the warm cloak from her, wrapping the child in it and picking her up. “She’s as light as a baby bowtruckle,” Charity whimpered, holding the girl close. “Looks like she hasn’t eaten in weeks. Where are her parents? Do you think she’s run away?”
A million questions and suppositions burbled out of the blonde witch as they hurried back to the castle with their new charge. Rolanda only grunted or grumbled in reply. Her hawk-like gaze didn’t leave the girl’s face as they reached the hospital wing. Charity and the mediwitch fussed about her, performing diagnostic spells and slipping various potions down her throat.
She was a little slip of a girl, clearly malnourished and neglected, and while Rolanda wasn’t completely cold-hearted, there was something unnerving about this girl. Maybe it was the fact that the child had taken her off guard–something that annoyed Rolanda to no end–but she felt inexplicably wary. A feeling that intensified when Charity and the mediwitch came her way, talking in turns so quickly that Rolanda felt as if she was dodging verbal bludgers.
“I want to stay with her until she wakes up,” Charity’s words drew Rolanda’s full attention, and while she wanted to argue, she knew better. “We need to know who she is, Ro. We have to make sure she’s okay.”
A long sigh escaped the white-haired witch, her head bobbing gently in resignation. “Alright. We’ll stay until she wakes up.”
Charity gave her a loving smile, blue eyes filling with tears before the blonde moved to sit in a chair at the girl’s bedside, smoothing dirty locks of hair back from the child’s face. Reluctantly, Rolanda moved to sit beside her, staring that the girl who looked as pale as the white sheets she was laying on–save only for the smudges of dirt on her face. Taking a handkerchief from her pocket, she used her wand to summon water to wet it, then gently began to clean the child’s face. “When she wakes up–”
“Don’t you dare finish that thought,” Charity scolded knowingly, taking the handkerchief from Rolanda and taking over.
Rolanda grunted in dismay, but kept her thoughts to herself about the little urchin, sitting back to wait for the child to wake up and explain herself.
